Classic Poem

If all these Cupids now were blind,
As is their wanton brother,
Or pLay should put it in their mind
To shoot at one another,

What pretty battle they would make
If they their objects should mistake,
And each one wound his mother!

It was no polity of court,
Albe the place were charmed,
To let, in earnest or in sport,
So many Loves in armed;
For say the dames should, with their eyes,
Upon the hearts here mean surprise,
Were not the men like harmed?

Yes, were the Loves or false or straying,
Or beauties not their beauty weighing;
But here no such deceit is mixed,
Their flames are pure, their eyes are fixed;
They do not war with different darts,
But strike a music of like hearts.
(from The Masque of Beauty)